


Our Castle of Lies

by besully (Briar_Elwood)



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Emotional Whumpage, Ghosts, M/M, Post Season 1, or maybe not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 02:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11049480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Briar_Elwood/pseuds/besully
Summary: Wynonna and Doc break into a blacksite to save Dolls. Breaking back out proves to be a lot harder.





	Our Castle of Lies

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a sucker for Wyatt/Doc, okay?

Dolls actually looks somewhat impressed with them until the alarms start blaring. He looks between his two rescuers mildly before asking, “So is there a plan for getting out?”

Wynonna’s mouth twists the way it does when things don’t quite go to her way. “Well, the _plan_ was to go out the same way we came in.”

“Impersonating federal agents?” Dolls clarifies. Wynonna smiles.

“Yes, that.”

“That’s not going to work anymore.”

“This is _your_ place of work,” Doc points out, taking a quick glance down the hall to make sure they’re still in the clear. “What other exits are there?”

“I’m no longer an employee,” Dolls points out, getting more and more aggravated. “They’ll have changed all the access points by now. And they’re all booby-trapped if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Anything we can get past?” Wynonna asks, holding up Peacemaker hopefully. Dolls raises an eyebrow at her and then sighs.

“I guess we’ll find that out, won’t we?”

The first couple exits they come across are insurmountable. One contains a pool of water and something large with tentacles--nicknamed Sheila, according to Dolls--another seems to be some sort of jungle to which Dolls only says “nope” and closes the door quick. They do run into a few spare guards whom Doc and Wynonna take care of with a handful of well-aimed bullets, but otherwise their path is clear.

“Because no one expects me to be dumb enough to try escaping this way,” Dolls explains, and then Doc starts to think maybe they might have a problem.

The third exit they try is darker than the deepest cave, and Wynonna hands Doc a flashlight. There seems to be nothing inside so they turn to Dolls. He shrugs.

“No clue. Could be something new.”

“Should we try?” Wynonna asks, peering into the darkness warily.

“Don’t see why not,” Doc says, and the three of them walk in. Doc was glad to let Dolls take the lead, stepping inside behind him cautiously, waiting for whatever was lurking in the dark to strike. When nothing happened, Doc relaxed minimally, giving the hand Wynonna had reach out a reassuring squeeze.

“We should stay close,” Dolls says, his voice seemingly disembodied in the pervasive darkness.

“Yeah, well, maybe you should let us keep up with you,” Doc replies, using the flashlight to try and find the ex-Deputy Marshal.

“Where did you--” Dolls’ question is cut off by the slamming of the door behind them, and both Wynonna and Doc jump and turn, Doc pointing the flashlight in the door’s direction to see what in the world had closed the door, but he can’t even find the door anymore. Doc lets Wynonna’s hand go to creep closer, sure that the door had been directly behind them and there should at least be some indication of its existence. But there’s nothing. Just dark. Doc turns back to Wynonna, but her silhouette has now disappeared as well.

“Wynonna?” he calls into the dark. “Dolls!”

There’s something, some noise like someone calling out through water, but it’s distant and fades quickly. Doc holds the flashlight up, desperate to find something, anything to indicate there was something more than just himself, the floor, and the darkness, but the light is flickering and soon enough, it goes out. Frustrated, Doc hits the flashlight with his palm a few times but for naught.

“Dolls!” he yells again, unnerved by the way his voice seems to be swallowed up. There’s no echo, no nothing. “Wynonna!”

It’s too dark. The darkness claws at Doc’s throat, suffocating him, making him gasp for air. He can feel the dark on his skin like a weight pressing down, steadily heavier and heavier. It’s too quiet, enough that his ears are ringing. The air has no smell, but he can smell the damp musty rotten smell of the well, filling his nostrils. He turns, one hand on a pistol, one arm out, trying to find something, anything to hold on to, but it’s all just dark, and Doc can’t breathe.

“Doc.”

Doc whirls at the voice, goosepimples running up his back as he recognizes it instantly, despite the many years. He keeps his gun holstered, instinct telling him the voice isn’t a threat. The voice is close, too, right behind him, too close to the back of his neck. But the figure is a few feet away, standing tall, white and shimmering like a ghost. But it can’t be a ghost. It just can’t.

“Wyatt,” Doc breathes, letting the flashlight clatter to the floor. “You can’t be real.” The pressure of the darkness seems to bleed away, pushed far back by the figure in front of him.

“It’s me, Doc,” the shimmering figure says with a familiar smile. It walks closer, spreading its arms wide. “I’m here.”

Doc holds out an arm, backing away quickly. “No, no, no, you can’t be real. You died a hundred years ago, you can’t be here.”

“But I am,” Wyatt argues. “It’s me. And I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”

That stops Doc in his tracks. He looks up at Wyatt, confused. “What? What ever for?”

“The way I acted the last time I saw you,” Wyatt says. “I was foolhardy and angry and, if I’m bein’ honest, I was scared. That demon Clootie had just placed a curse on my family, and I was terrified of what it all meant, and I took it out on you.”

“You declared me dead,” Doc accuses, taking a step forward. The white figure shrugs.

“So I was angry for a while. But I wanted you to know I went lookin’ for you.”

“I was rottin’ in the bottom of a well,” Doc bites. Wyatt nods sadly.

“I wish I’d known. I wish I’d gone lookin’ sooner. Maybe I coulda saved you from those years in the darkness.”

There’s a brief moment where the pressure of the black comes flooding back, and Doc practically chokes on it, but then Wyatt continues talking.

“I hate how things ended between us, Doc. I wish there was somethin’ I could do to fix that.” Wyatt shakes his head, looking downcast. “After all, I always loved you.”

The air seems to leave the room in a whoosh, and Doc can only stare at the figure disbelievingly. After a few tries, he manages to find his voice.

“You married Josie.”

“‘N’ I loved her too, but you were always first,” Wyatt says, the look in his eyes so sincere it actually feels like something inside of Doc is being torn apart. He shakes his head, turning his back on the trick of the eye, and walking back into the darkness. Suffocation was better than this.

“You know how it was back then,” Wyatt continues, voice following Doc as he tries to get away. “A man needed a woman to have any sort of respect, especially as a lawman. God forbid a man have another man as his partner.”

“And you never thought to say anythin’?” Doc growls, turning back to Wyatt viciously. Wyatt smiles, almost amused, and it makes Doc even angrier.

“Did you?” Wyatt asked.

“You had Josie! And Mattie! And I never knew Urilla, but I know how much you love her!”

“And you had Kate,” Wyatt says with a nod.

“Kate ‘n’ I were nothin’ like you ‘n’ Josie. And I never pretended we were.”

“True. But there’s no reason to accuse me of never sayin’ anythin’ when you never said anythin’ yourself.”

“That’s because I thought--with good reason, mind you--that it was just me!” Doc barks. “If I’da known you--But you’re not real. You’re just a hallucination.” Doc turns away again, walking farther into the darkness, but he can see the light of Wyatt’s image following behind him.

“It’s truly me, Doc, I swear it,” Wyatt pleads. “I loved you, ‘n’ I always did.”

“You had fuckin’ children with Josie, you ass,” Doc growls, not turning to face the image this time. “I know that for a fact.”

“And I left them all for a whole two years to go lookin’ for you.”

Doc stops, looking over his shoulder skeptically. “Whaddya mean?”

“When I finally came to my senses,” Wyatt says, the look on his face pleading for understanding, “When I finally realized I shouldn’ta treated you the way I did, I went lookin’ for you. I left Josie and the kids and went lookin’ for you for two whole years, searchin’ high ‘n’ low for any sign. I knew you had to be out there somewhere--you’d made a deal for immortality, that I knew--but it was like you’d just vanished off the face of the earth. I thought it was my fault.”

“Well, that it was,” Doc grumbles. “Clootie only came to me to get revenge on you.”

“I know.”

“ _How_? How do you know?” Doc asks. “Are you all knowin’ now too?”

“I’ve been watchin’ you. Wynonna’s my great great granddaughter, Doc. You think I haven’t been watchin’ out for her?”

“And me?”

“I’ve been watchin’ out for you, too. Ever since I died. I was watchin’ you all those years in the well.”

Doc huffs something that’s supposed to be a laugh. “Just watchin’, huh? Enjoy the show?”

“There was nothin’ I could do.”

“You couldn’ta even _talked_ to me?”

“No.”

“And why, exactly, is that?” Doc asked tersely. “Why can you talk to me now?”

“I don’t know,” Wyatt admitted. Doc shook his head again, turning away.

“You’re not real,” he says again. “This isn’t real.”

“I loved you, Doc,” Wyatt pleads. “I can only ask for forgiveness.”

“This isn’t real,” Doc repeats, stumbling over his own feet. There’s something wet on his cheeks and the darkness is starting to wrap itself around his throat again.

“Please, Doc. You’re my best friend.”

“And you were my only friend,” Doc says, more to himself than anything. “But you’re not real. This isn’t you.” He gasps for air, coughing violently as his lungs readjust to the sudden intake of oxygen.

“I only ask for forgiveness.”

“You’re not real.”

“Please, Doc.”

“You’re not real.”

“I loved you.”

“ _You’re not real!_ ” Doc stumbles over something, tripping and falling forward fast, hitting something solid before making it to the ground. He pats at the thing holding him up and decides it must be a wall.

“Doc…”

A wall must mean a door is somewhere. There was one in. Even if he has to go backwards, all he needs is to get out of this place, one way or the other. There has to be a door.

“I loved you…”

There! A seam, a hinge, and then a knob! Doc scrabbles at the knob, his fingers having trouble cooperating for a moment.

“I loved you, Doc…”

The knob turns and the door opens, the cold night air hitting him in the face like a blast of wind. Doc falls forward, having to crawl the rest of the way out of there, slamming the door shut, one last “Forgive me…” echoing behind him as he leans heavily against the door, trying desperately to catch his breath.

After a few moments of just breathing and trying to get the shimmering image of Wyatt Earp out of his mind’s eye, Doc finally opens his eyes and takes a look around. He’s outside. Sitting on the cold hard ground, the area deserted around him. He glances back at the door he’s leaning against and cringes. Dolls and Wynonna are still in there somewhere. He should go back in and find them. But the idea of seeing that ghost again… He shudders. He’ll just wait here and hope there isn’t another exit they might’ve taken.

The area around the building is dark forest, made ominous by the moonlight, but it’s the same dark forest he and Wynonna saw on their way inside. Wynonna had made some joke as they snuck in, posing as if they belonged there, marching uniformly and singing in a low voice “oh ee oh”, saying something about a “wizard in oz” when Doc had looked at her funny, but he still didn’t get it. Maybe it was some “pop culture” reference he hadn’t caught up on yet. He’ll have to ask her when she gets out. So the forest seems to indicate that despite that adventure and the darkness that he was sure had turned him completely around, Doc had made it out safely. ...Just not soundly.

He jumps when there’s a push at the door behind him, and it takes him a moment to realize that he’s blocking his friends’ way out. He scrambles backwards, hand on his gun just in case, and out tumbles Wynonna, her eyes wide and terrified, just like she’d… well, like she’d seen a ghost. The door closes behind her with a slam and her eyes find Doc and she collapses into him with a loud exhale of relief.

“S-saw W-willa,” she stammers, shivering in Doc’s hold. He’s not sure if it’s from the cold or from the terror. “Sh-she kept talking about how I k-killed her a-and said she was sorry B-bobo had twisted her mind.”

Doc pets her hair comfortingly, staring at the closed door, willing for Dolls to appear. Wynonna’s tough as nails, he knows she’ll be all right if he just holds her for a moment, but Dolls was the entire reason they were here, and if he gets lost in that godforsaken room…

It’s hard not to sigh in relief when the door opens again to Dolls, looking unsettled and somehow ruffled. Wynonna pulls out of Doc’s hold to go to him, hugging him tight.

“You okay?” she asks. Dolls pulls out the hug, pulling down his usual look of complete composure easily.

“I’m fine. We’re out. Did _not_ expect that to happen.”

“I found the entrance at one point,” Wynonna admits. “But I wasn’t about to let Willa push me back in there.”

“You saw Willa?” Dolls asks. Wynonna nods.

“You?”

Dolls grimaces. “Kandahar,” is all he says. Wynonna turns to Doc, holding a hand out to him. He takes it on instinct, reveling in the solid touch of her fingers.

“Who did you see?” she asks, but Doc hears her through a tank of water, distant and warbled. The image of Wyatt still wavers in his mind’s eye.

“Doc?”

“I assume you drove here?” Dolls asks, taking mercy on Doc.

“We brought my truck. You two stay here, I’ll go find it.”

It’s quiet for a few moments as Wynonna gives Doc a final glance before slipping away to find the car. Dolls leans back against the building wall, and Doc can tell, although it seems so far away, that the ex-Deputy Marshal is watching him closely.

“Let me guess. You saw Wyatt.”

The name snaps Doc out of his reverie, and he looks at Dolls, startled.

“How do you--” Doc says, but Dolls shakes his head.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re easier to read than you think, cowboy.”

Doc huffs annoyedly, folding his arms over his chest. Easy to read, his ass.

“And now you’re wondering,” Dolls says, the same perceptive tone in his voice, “if it’s worse if it was real or worse if it wasn’t.”


End file.
